Sensitivity
It is a great affliction, sensitivity. In milder doses it can be construed as soft-heartedness or even genuine warmth. But when it is present in copious quantities within one's mind and spirit, it becomes a dead-weight that is of no value but has to be lugged around nevertheless. It complicates normal existence and makes for a difficult companion. Taking myself as a case in point, sensitivity has resulted in the categorical exclusion of a number of seemingly innocuous things from my life. First to go was the meat of mammals. Having witnessed an act of butchery, it was no longer possible for me to continue ingesting red meat. Even though I sincerely tried, every time I put a morsel into my mouth I found myself tasting blood. And thus my range of edibility narrowed considerably. ...